


Peregrination

by 912luvjaxlean



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: April 2018, F/M, Post-Murder and Mozzerella, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14459007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/912luvjaxlean/pseuds/912luvjaxlean
Summary: Jack returns to Wardlow after a journey away from Phryne.





	Peregrination

Inspector Jack Robinson hesitated at the threshold of the drawing room at Wardlow. He waited for Mr. Butler to announce him. Just behind the closed doors the sound of an operatic recording could be heard. It was a selection from Rigoletto, ‘La donna e mobile’. The tenor proclaimed that 'Woman is fickle, like a feather in the wind. She changes her voice and her mind' as Jack paused in the foyer and listened.

Miss Phryne Fisher sat wedged in her armchair as though seeking shelter. Her head rested lightly upon her right hand in contemplation. Her left hand gripped the chair’s arm as though the room was swaying. She seemed to be waiting for someone. Perhaps half hoping for the return of the missing element in her beautifully appointed parlor. Perhaps half dismissing her desire for any one man in her life. Perhaps she was changing her mind.

The door to the drawing room opened. The Inspector was announced and welcomed. Phryne alluded to Jack’s recent passion for everything Italian. He reassured her that it was now a thing of the past.

“Looks like you’ll have to make do with me,” she told him.

“Looks like we’ll have to make do with each other,” he replied with a shy smile as he presented the bottle of wine that he carried.

“A peace offering, Jack?”

“May we be friends again, Miss Fisher?”

“I don’t believe our friendship ever stopped, it was just sidetracked temporarily. Won’t you have a seat?”

“May I tell you the truth?”

“Oh dear, must you?” He nodded yes. “Very well. Proceed.” She steeled herself for his revelation.

“I don’t like sitting on that torture device,” he gestured to an antique chaise lounge.

“Why?”

“I always feel as though my legs are right under my chin. Or, I must contort myself into the shape of an S to converse with you. Oh, do stop laughing at me, Miss Fisher. I told myself that from now on I would try to be more honest with you.”

“More forthcoming and open?”

“Yes.”

“And, my love seat is the issue at hand?”

“To be honest, at bottom.” They smiled at each other. “Would you like some wine?” He walked over to the drinks table, found two glasses, poured, returned and served her a glass.  A small musical note sounded as their crystal kissed.

He placed himself at the end of her fireplace. Standing enhanced the slenderness of his waist, the broadness of his shoulders, and cut of his suit. He leaned slightly which caused his legs to part. She wondered if he did that deliberately. Surely not. He was so unassuming and modest. He couldn’t be that aware of how that posture showed off his tackle to advantage. But, then again, perhaps he did. Lately, he was full of surprises.

“Not a cat, an exotic bird,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“I was thinking you reminded me of an animal posing by the fireplace and a big handsome cat first came to mind.” He tilted his head and looked at her in amusement. “But, now on further reflection, I believe you are more avian this evening than feline.” She stood up and moved forward. “I must proceed slowly so as not to cause him to run away,” she whispered. She moved towards him stealthily, knowing that her slow movements in her form fitting black lounge suit showed off her slender figure to advantage.

“Wouldn’t I fly rather than run?”

“Yes, if you insist on being pedantic. Here I am.  And, you haven’t yet taken flight. Excellent.” She stood just in front of him, quite close.

“I’m not going anywhere, Miss Fisher.”

“I’ve missed you,” she said and lightly petted his lapel.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“You have lipstick on your collar, Jack Robinson.”

“Surely not. Uh, it’s most likely spaghetti sauce.”

She pushed herself into him and lightly touched his shirt collar. “Red sauce with a coral undertone?”

“Concetta was saying goodbye and kissed me.”

“A likely story.”

“It’s true.”

“I don’t think that’s the whole truth, but I will have to accept it.” Their eyes locked. His were blue, deep-set and intelligent. Hers were blue-green, large, bright, and probing. “For now,” she said sternly, releasing him from her magnetic gaze.

They stood closely together, melded and melting into each other. One step more. One move more. And, the embrace into the journey of beginnings would commence. She moved forward in anticipation and he stepped back.

“So, it’s the Robinson Hesitation Shuffle again tonight?” She said in frustration.

“Forgive me. I don’t know why I did that. Let’s begin again. I’ll try to be more resolute.”

“You’re not going to your execution, Jack.” He looked chagrinned. “Come along. I want to show you something. A recent purchase at an estate sale.”

They exited the drawing room, crossed the foyer and entered the dining room. The lights were on. There were no candles or china upon the table only a picture frame and a magnifying glass. Two chairs were placed closely together at one end.

“No candles?” Jack asked.

“The candlelit dinner has become a cliché. It’s quite exploded.”

“Did you have much trouble getting the wax out of things when that happened?” He queried as he regained his equilibrium with humor.

She looked at him with hooded eyes, trying not to smile at his irreverence. She motioned to the chairs. He pulled hers out first, made sure she was seated and then took his own seat. She picked up the small frame and tilted it towards him. “It’s called The Lady Falconer.”

“Oh, it’s quite wonderful, isn’t it?” He said with pleasure as he examined the small black and white drawing.

“I knew you’d appreciate it. I didn’t set out to acquire an Elizabethan illustration. The auction had a collection of Staffordshire dogs that I was interested in.”

“Surely not your style, Miss Fisher.”

“Aunt P collects. I’ve neglected her lately as well as my other charges. And…He didn’t appreciate my skills or expertise at all, Jack.”

“Captain Courageous?”

“Compton. Yes. Do you know that he called me in to act as nothing more than a beard? And when I questioned him, he told me that we weren’t in Madagascar anymore.”

“Well, at least he knows where he is.”

“Oh, do be serious.”

“Things change. People change,” said Jack sadly. “We know that.”

“That’s better,” said Phryne as she leaned into him.

“Would you like me to thrash him? It would be my pleasure.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she smiled privately at his suggestion.

“Because I would be willing to work him over for you. I know several methods that don't leave marks.”

“No, thank you.”

“You’re very sure I can’t knock him around a bit just for some exercise?”

“I'm sure. I’m quite able to take care of myself.”

“I’m aware of that. Though you seemed to be interested in the tune he was playing awhile ago.”

“And, you know Concetta Strano, how?” Phryne abruptly changed the subject.

“I was the one who came to tell her that she was a widow.”

“Oh. Of course. I should have thought of that.”

“Our friendship developed from there. We both grieved lost marriages, you see. But, shared grief is shifting sand. One can’t build upon it.”

“You never mentioned her.”

“No. You never mentioned Captain Compton.”

“No. I’m sorry I ever answered his telephone call,” said Phryne as she busied herself with the picture frame.

“I’m sorry I developed a taste for Italian,” said Jack and gently stroked her hand with his little finger.

“Then, it’s all in the past. You must look closely at the whole picture. It’s really quite special.” She passed him a magnifying glass with a green marble handle. “Tell me about her.”

“The Lady Falconer?”

“Yes.” She helped him hold the magnifier by placing her hand upon his.

“Well,” said Jack as he studied the art and leaned into Phryne so that their shoulders touched, “she’s an equestrienne. That’s a side saddle on her mount, with no pillion shown.”

“An accomplished horsewoman, then. Able to move about on her own. She’s obviously self-motivated.”

“Are you suggesting she carried the horse?” He asked with mock seriousness.

“I merely suggest that she is able to travel alone.” Phryne moved so that their knees touched under the table. “She is independent.”

“Yes, I agree. But, if you look closely she is accompanied by two groomsmen and a lady’s maid. They are just in the background there. And, her steward sets the table for al fresco dining. She has wealth and status and power.”

“How can you tell?” Phryne removed her hand, shifted her weight upon her chair and pressed into Jack’s side.

“As evidenced by her fine horse and trappings, her servants, and her elaborate riding costume.”

“It is a cunning little hat,” said Phryne as she pushed her right breast against his left side. “I wonder if my milliner could make me something like that?”

“I thought were discussing art, Miss Fisher.” Jack shifted and put his left arm across the back of her chair, pressing his body against her breast.

“Fashion is art, Inspector,” sighed Phryne. “Now, what else can you tell me?” Phryne moved her right hand onto his left knee.

“Uh…”

“Go on. This is a nice wool,” she said as she massaged his leg.

“I…”

“I appreciate the cut of a man’s suit, Jack. As well as the line of his in-seam.”

“As to that, Miss Fisher, I think…”

“You should tell me more about my lovely little illustration. Don’t you like it?” She alluded to the stroking of his inner leg as well as the piece of art.

“Yes,” he answered and swallowed hard.

“What do you make of the creature she is holding? Gyrfalcon?” She asked with interest and intent.

“Or Peregrine. He’s a fine fellow. See how tall he stands upon the support of her hand, how secure he feels poised there, waiting for the removal of his hood and the command to fly.”

“She’s trained him, of course.”

“Yes, he responds to her hand gestures. She uses food to train and tame him,” said Jack.

“Ham, cheese and mustard pickle sandwiches, perhaps?” Phryne said as Jack smiled. “And she has command over him?”

“Only if he trusts her.”

“Does he trust her, do you think?”

“I believe so, Phryne,” he said huskily.

“And, she takes control?” She squeezed the inside of his upper thigh. He gave a little gasp and she quickly let go.

“She has the power to control, and release,” he acknowledged.

“Release could be his tonight, if he stayed,” said Phryne seductively. “Will he?”

“Perhaps, my lady.”

“Shall we see just how much command she has?” Phryne rose from her chair and walked across the room with a sensuous motion. “Sir Peregrine?” She said as she looked over her shoulder. With a gesture of her hand she beckoned her bird of prey to come after her.

Without hesitation he flew to her side.


End file.
